


A Brief History

by im_alive_grace



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Backstory, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt Aaron Hotchner, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 13:00:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25970092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_alive_grace/pseuds/im_alive_grace
Summary: Hotch has a history. A series of events that make him the person he is today. There are layers to his life he wants to keep to himself. But sometimes our secrets are our worst enemies.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner & David Rossi, Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner & The BAU Team
Comments: 15
Kudos: 143





	1. Memories of a Past Life

**Author's Note:**

> I took a lot of liberty on Hotch's backstory and the timeline. I tried to connect it to real events in the show but some of the events are altered or changed to better fit the story i was trying to create. I hope that doesn't distract anyone!

_“That was when the world wasn't so big and I could see everywhere. It was when my father was a hero and not a human.” Markus Zusak, I Am the Messenger_

-

Aaron Hotchner's watches as his father gravels on about work. He should be focused on the peas that sat ideally in his bowl. Instead the slow incline of volume caught his attention. There was a darkness to his father's voice. Something that never sat right with Aaron. But he didn’t understand that feeling since he was only four. He had bigger problems most days like how he wanted to organize his toys or what fruit he’d eat for lunch. 

At this moment he notices how large his father's hands are. The fork and knife looked like doll accessories. The veins in his hands popped out. The blue of the veins harshly contrasting off of his father's light skin tone. His father didn’t do outside work, he would never gain a natural tan. Then came the lack of wrinkles. His mother's hands were rough and wrinkly. Aaron often thought about them because he thought women were supposed to have soft hands. His mother was soft after all. Her voice was gentle, while his fathers wasn’t. So for his father to have soft unworked hands was odd to him. 

“Why isn’t your son eating?” His father's voice broke through Aaron’s thoughts.

“Our son.” His mother said. 

“I didn’t teach him to be ungrateful for what he has.” 

“He’s four. He’s not ungrateful. He’s just being picky.” 

He couldn’t figure out how to say that he liked peas. He really liked them actually. He told his mother that was the vegetable he wanted with his dinner. Instead he watched as his father smacked his mother across the face. 

She whispered an apology and left the room. Aaron looked with wide eyes at his father. The older man flared at him. 

“This is what happens when we don’t do the right thing Aaron. People get hurt. Now eat your dinner.” 

His stomach was rolling but he ate it anyway. Later that night he threw up, cleaned himself up and went to bed. This mother had enough to worry about. 

-

Aaron sat in his father's study. He was only allowed in when he was in trouble. His father worked on important things in the room. At least that’s what Aaron could gather from what his mother said. But he didn’t see his father's briefcase or the files he sometimes left on the kitchen table. Instead the room was a mess of books and whisky bottles. The smell of cigarettes was strong and made Aaron feel sick. 

“Your teacher called today.” His father said. 

Years have passed and the man's hands are still smooth. Over the years Aaron would look at his own hands and hope to see them look different. He wanted the wrinkles and scars and rough patches his mother has. But it seems that no matter how rough he played the skin was just as soft as the day he was born. 

“She says that you're being difficult during reading time.” 

“I don’t like-“

“Do not speak unless I say so.” His father hissed. 

His father smoked Camels. There was a point in Aaron’s life where he was fascinated by the box of cigarettes. The camel with the desert hills and the setting sun. It felt so forgien to him. He’d never seen anything like that before. But he liked the idea that there were places that weren’t like his home. 

“You refused to read the books the teacher was giving you.” 

Camel cigarettes were just cigarettes though. Because Aaron soon came to realize that he wouldn’t learn a life outside of his home for a very long time. And at that point he didn’t know if it would matter. Far away places in his imagination could only do so much. 

“Some kids don’t go to school. Some kids don’t get the options you do. So why are you making a fuss when your life is so great?” 

“The books are too easy.” Aaron squeaked. 

His father laughed. A rumbling noise that reminded him of thunder. 

"Don’t lie to me.” 

“I’m not. I’ve read all the books in class and they are too easy. I told my teacher-“

His father smacked him in the same way he smacked his mother. And just like his mother Aaron whispered out an apology. He didn’t cry or scream or even reacted. He had watched his mother hit enough to know that he should just let it happen. 

-

At the age of eleven Aaron’s father put his cigarette out on the back on his hand. It was the first time he cried when his father hurt him. 

For a split second he thought his father did it by accident. But the pain lasted too long. The cigarette was shoved into his skin, the ash breaking off and the filter bending under the pressure. His skin was screaming, the blood boiling. 

“Pain makes us stronger.”

His father smiled as he said it. Aaron’s mind was too muddled with agony to tell him he thought that was a lie. After years of beatings he’s never felt like he could be strong enough to fight back against his father. 

But that night Aaron got the one thing he’s wanted his whole life. His hands no longer looked like his fathers. The scar of the burn would stay with him forever. 

-

He cried himself to sleep when he learned his mother was pregnant. Aaron has learned to protect himself. He knew how to walk around the house on the tips of his toes so he wouldn’t wake his father from his naps. He learned not to cause issues at school. He learned to join any after school activity if it meant he’d get home later. Aaron learned from years of mistakes and by watching his mother slowly become less of his subject of anger. He learned to take the pain for two. He didn’t know if he could take the pain for three. 

-

Three weeks after Sean was born his father broke his arm. The pain was so sudden he didn’t have time to scream or cry. Instead he stood there in disbelief as his father tried to talk himself out of it. 

Aaron has just wanted to hold Sean. He just wanted to see his little brother. But his father said it was too late and forced him out of nursery. It was the first time Aaron tried to fight back. And it made Aaron realize it would be the only time. His father throwing him out of the room hadn’t meant to be so painful. He could tell by the way his father eyed his arm. But it was proof that his father was starting to lose control of himself. 

“I need a hospital.” Aaron said after several minutes. 

“You’ll tell them I did that.” His father said. 

“I’ll tell them I fell down the stairs because I was being a shitty son who didn’t want to take care of his baby brother.” 

That’s exactly what he told the Doctor as he aligned the bone. 

-

Aaron was sent to private school for his last four years of high school. He only saw Sean during holidays and summers. But that didn’t keep him for looking for signs. It also didn’t stop his father from hurting him in any possible way. 

No presents at Christmas, no letters from home, Sean seemed to not trust him and his mother had grown distant. He’d get belt whippings during breaks and beating during summer. But it was always away from Sean. 

He excelled at school once he left home. His teachers noticed he was well ahead of his classmates and had set up personal assignments and classes so he could gather college credits on the side. By the rate he was learning he would only need one year of college to graduate. 

After that he’ll be free. 

-

Ironically he became everything his father was. He took the same prosecutor job. He took on similar cases. He became repressed. He spent long nights at the office. He lost his cool at co-workers and blamed everyone but himself for things that went wrong. 

But he never hit or whipped or burned anyone. He never broke someone’s arm and refused to take them to the hospital. Instead Aaron, now going as Hotch, only hurt himself. He drank too much, slept too little and never allowed anyone to help him. 

He was nineteen and he felt more alone than ever. Some nights he wished he was still at home because at least then people acknowledged him. 

-

“You did good work there.” 

Hotch snapped his head up. A man in his late forties was standing by his car. His was built but almost unnoticeable. The man's suit covered it nicely. He did that on purpose, to look less like a threat. But Hotch noticed the gun right away. It was canceled behind the black jacket, but the slight dip in the man's left side gave it away. His goatee was trimmed and his hair was short. Eyes steady and watchful. His olive skin tone is shown in the sun. 

“David Rossi. The case is over. I thought you’d be on your way back to Quantico.” Hotch said. 

“I thought I’d take a late flight back. I have some unfinished business in Seattle.” Rossi said. 

“And what might that be.” 

“I see a frustration in you.” 

Hotch gripped his briefcase. David Rossi was one of the smartest men he had the pleasure meeting. His knowledge on human behavior mesomized Hotch. But to be analyzed by him was horrifying. The burn scar on the back of his hand was still obviously present. A few white lines ran up his neck from unlucky whippings. He knew at times he would shake when subjects of contentment were brought up. He knew everything about him could be read by Rossi. The man was a genius and built the BAU with Jason Gideon. Hotch couldn’t hide who he actually is. A boy lost to the monster he let his father create. 

“You want to stop these horrible people before they even get to the courthouse.” Rossi said. “You feel like just by them getting this far you're failing the victims. Am I right.” 

“When have you been wrong?” 

“Plenty of times. But I learn to grow and move on from my mistakes. That’s something you have to learn.” Rossi held out a business card to Hotch. “Call me if you want to put your brain to good work.” 

Rossi stepped away from Hotch's car. He rhymes the card. The rough paper gliding across the soft skin of his hand. A moment passed. The tapping of Rossi’s shoes being the only noise in the parking lot. 

Hotch turned away from his car. Italian leather, new. He had worn his best for the trail. The riches oozed off of Rossi, but his humble nature never once implied his wealth. His father had three Aramin suits. Each one costs more than Hotch's current paycheck. His father made it clear how much money they had and he wanted everyone to know. But Rossi wasn’t like that. 

“Why’d you testify? I told Gideon on the phone that the trail would be fine without you.” Hotch said. 

Rossi paused in his walk. Hands slipped into his pockets and he tipped his head and shoulders to look at Hotch. 

“Gideon read me the defense you had made for the victims. You gathered details we had missed. You talked to the victims like they were people beyond the crime that happened to them.” Rossi said. “The BAU has lost track of the goal. We’re so focused on finding the UnSub we often forget the victims and what happens to them after we leave. But you make sure that they get the help they need. You gain trust with them. You gain trust with people. That’s something I found honorably. I knew I had to come to see how you worked. I wanted to know if your personality was just for work or if it was actually you.” 

“Am I?” 

“Call me and you’ll see.” 

Rossi turned away and left. Hotch smiled down at himself. Something he hadn’t done for years. 

-

At the age of twenty six Hotch had graduated from the FBIs training academy. He wrote home to tell them. Sean would be eleven. He hadn’t seen his brother in five years. What would be like? What would he look like? Would he even remember Hotch? 

A week later he received a letter from his mother telling him his father had lung cancer. 

Laughter bubbled up in his stomach and escaped into a chaotic burst of giggles. In the dark of his apartment in Quantico Virginia Aaron Hotchner lost control of himself. His cackles turned into broken sobs as he clutched the letter in his hands.

He fell asleep from exhaustion on his couch and woke up and went to work his first day at the BAU. He smiled and laughed and joked with the people who would be his team members. He drank large cups of coffee and worked on cold case files. Jason Gideon and David Rossi would walk around the bullpen once and awhile. It was small check ups on him. Hotch knew that. But he welcomed anything and everything the day would throw at him. He was learning to be himself. Unrelated to his life in Washington. 

Hotch knew his father would die of cancer. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind. He would be free soon. 

-

“Tough first case.” Gideon said. 

“It was a tough case in general.” Rossi said. “Everyone else isn’t feeling great either Hotch. Don’t beat yourself up over this.” 

Hotch shocked his head. His head leaned against the wall of the train. The cart was empty except for his team which he knew were all sleeping except for them. The quietness wasn’t what he thought he’d uncounted during his job. He knew that cases wouldn’t be easy, but he thought there would still be idle chatter around. The quietness was haunting. It ate at Hotch. Only proving to him the horribleness that’s happened. 

“Caleb Harris spoke to me. He begged me to stop him and I couldn’t. How can I not take this personally?” Hotch said. 

“None of us stopped him. And we all would have stepped in at any point. But we didn’t. This is a team effort.” Gideon said. 

“I was brought on because I’m supposed to be able to connect with people. But in my first case I couldn’t do that.” Hotch snapped. 

Rossi sighed and reached out to Hotch's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. 

“Caleb Harris killed his own son and I think-“ 

“Don’t profile me...please.” Hotch whispered. 

He saw the two older men share a look. Gideon nodded his head and left his spot, moving off to the other sleeping teammates. Rossi leaned against his seat, for a moment both of them watched the dark valleys and parities pass them by. Hotch then noticed Rossi’s hands. The wrinkles and small white scars and skin discoloration from sun burns. He saw years of life living in those hands. Years of life Hotch didn’t have. 

“We aren’t supposed to profile each other. It’s a rule.” Rossi said. “But I’m concerned about you.” 

“I’ll be alright.” Hotch said. 

“Aaron...I had a son once. He would be your age right now. He died in a car crash. I didn’t get to say goodbye or tell him just how much he mattered to me.” Rossi said. “And I watched as Caleb Harris had every chance to do what I couldn’t and he didn’t. I saw a father take his own son's life and never even tell him he loved him. And I’m left wondering why someone who has everything can’t see that. And I see you and I can tell that something is going inside your head because this case has affected you just as much as me. Maybe for different reasons but it still stands. We will hurt during this job, but we are a team. We have each other to reach out to if we need it.” 

Hotch turned his gaze away from the window to look over to Rossi. His eyes showed from the dim light in the cart. Hotch didn’t mention it. The moments of vulnerability were vital. And it was something Hotch wanted to learn to do. 

“I'm learning that.” Hotch said. 

“Don’t take too long.” Rossi said. 

Hotch smiled. Rossi pulled out a pack of cards and asked Hotch if he knew how to play rummy. The pain was still there, but it wasn’t so bad anymore. 

-

Hotch had gotten used to the new additions to the team. Morgan was clever, charming and broke down any door that got in the team's way. JJ was young, personable and could put drinks on anyone on the team. Garcia was Hotch's personal choice. He had heard through the grapevine that the FBI has been having issues with a woman hacking into secure systems across the country. Gideon had subtly told Hotch to meet her and see if she was a “threat”. 

Hotch saw a woman with morals deeper than the sea and a heart of gold. He knew at that moment he needed her on their team. With some hesitation she took his offer. Now she banters with Morgan, giggles with JJ, and annoys Hotch in all the best ways. 

Gideon said he had found a protege. A leave of a senses was being processed to introduce the kid into the academy. 

Rossi was gone more than present. The new team members haven’t even met him. Hotch was twenty nine and didn’t know how to describe what he was feeling. He knew something wasn’t right, he just didn’t know what. And he didn’t know why it made him feel the way he did. 

-

“No.” Hotch said. 

“Gideon and I both discussed and thought you would be the best choice.” Rossi said. 

“No.” 

“We thought you wanted to be the Unit Chief.” 

“Yes. Of course I do. But only when you two can no longer do the job.” 

Every scar no matter what size felt like they were tingling. Pin needles poking into his skin. Hotch knew what a therapist would say if he told them this. He had deep rooted daddy issues he needed to face. It’s the pain of losing a man he looked up to. It was painful because he never learned how to accept endings. 

“Sometimes we should finish the story before it finishes itself.” Rossi said. 

It was Hotch's first day back after a requested week off for personal reasons. This wasn’t the news he thought he’d receive coming back. He would’ve taken piles of cold cases, horrific murders, trashy of any sort. But this, he couldn’t handle this. He could feel a tightness building in his chest. 

“Reconsider.” 

“I know you’ve noticed I haven’t spoken to any of the new team members. I haven’t gone to any of the cases, approved any of the paperwork or sat in on briefings. I’ve decided this months ago Aaron.” 

“Why?” 

“Kid-“

“Don’t call me that.” 

Rossi pushed his hand through his hair and let out a deep sigh. Hotch could tell he thought this meeting would go differently. That’s why the door to the office was still open and the shades weren’t put down. The chatter of the bullpen could be heard. The argument in the room wasn’t being overheard. But Hotch could feel that his own team might be watching from their desks. 

“Something is wrong.” Rossi said. 

His eyes were burning, fearing willing up, wanting to pour over. He looked Rossi in the eyes. A moment didn’t pass before the elder man stood up and shut the door to the office. He motioned for Hotch to sit on the couch and Fossi sat next to him. Moments passed as Hotch tried to determine what to say and how to say it. 

How open should someone be if the person is just going to leave right after? 

“Last week I saw my brother Sean for the first time in eight years. He’s fifteen now. It was like time hadn’t even passed.” Hotch said. “But eight years is eight years.” 

He felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. It was hammering in his rib cage but was also tight like how his father used to tie his shows. 

“I went home because my father had finally died from lung cancer. He was a smoker.” 

Hotch ribbed the scar on his hand which was now spiking with pain. Pin needles turned into knives which cut through the smooth skin of his hands. The scar was faded, a slight red tone with raised edges. Most people wouldn’t notice it. Sometimes Hotch even forgot it was there. Eight years had done some wonders for him. 

“I wanted him to die so badly that when I got the news I wanted to celebrate. I called Morgan and we got drunker than I have ever been. But then I went home and I saw Sean and I saw my mother and they were...sad.” 

Hotch scrubbed the tears off his face and let out a hitched sob. Rossi was running a hand over his back. He gathered his breath and got out of his spot and started to pace the room. His legs were weak and shook but he pushed himself to walk.

“He beat my mom. I saw it David! And my father blamed me. How could she cry for him? He broke my arm for god sakes!” 

Hotch let out a broken giggle as he threw his hands in the air. 

“Then it dawned on me. That once I left he stopped hitting her and he never laid a finger on Sean. I was the issue. Not him. My mother loved him and Sean never knew him as the monster I did.” 

Rossi caught Hotch as he crumbled to the ground. Sobs wracked his body. 

“And now you're leaving.”

“I’ll only be a phone call away.”

-

Sometimes a phone call is too far. 


	2. Handling Present

Hotch is thirty one years old and the unit chief at the BAU. He is thirty one and feels like he has no one in life. He hasn’t seen Rossi in a year. He berated Reid in front of an UnSub and physically attacked him as well. Although it saved the case Hotch knew he hurt the kid. Elle Greenaway has quit and blames him for getting shot. Rightly so. Reid got kidnapped and he couldn’t do anything. JJ said he was mean, Morgan called him a drill sergeant and Emily said he was sexist. Gideon hadn’t spoken and maybe that was worse. Maybe he couldn’t pick quick enough because there was too much to choose from. His team wasn’t his. They weren’t even his friends. They were co workers at most. 

He used to smile and laugh at work. He used to drink with Morgan, gossip with the girls, learn Reid's rambles and play chess with Gideon. 

Now he sits in his office and listens to the team be a team without him. 

-

“Sean!” Hotch said. 

“Don’t profile me Aaron.” Sean snapped. 

They weren’t close. They might never be. Hotch never told him about what their father used to do to him. He didn’t see the point in ruining Seans view of their dad now that he’s dead. It wouldn’t do anyone any good. 

But he knew how much Sean wanted to be like their father. So to hear that Sean wasn’t planning on going to college was shocking. A chef? That’s what his dreams are now? Hotch couldn’t even process it. 

His little brother would be in New York though. They’ve never been that close in years. Hotch could go see him. They could grow as brothers.

But after that Hotch doubted it. 

“Knock knock.” Garcia said. 

“You can leave the files on my desk.” 

“Are you alright?” 

Hotch paused. What was alright? 

He scooped out Garcia’s hands. Godly large rings sat on her fingers. Perfectly painted nails, too many bracelets. The tips of her fingers had calluses. It could only happen from how much typing she does. They looked soft for the most part. He saw Penelope as a person who used lots of lotion. It would smell like cherry blossom and have a pink coloring to it. But she would never be able to take away the work she put her finger tips through. She was lived in. 

“Sean wants to be a chef.” Hotch said. 

“Isn’t he still in high school?” Garcia said 

“How do you know that?” 

“I listen to you when you talk.” 

Hotch felt his lips twitch up into a smile. 

Penelope Garcia. He knew there was something special about her. She was too caring for her own good. 

“It was just a fight between brothers. We’ll be fine.” 

“I asked if you're alright.” 

“I will be.” 

Later that evening Hotch would return to his desk and find a small oddly shaped stuffed toy at his desk. It was fluffy and made of brightly colored fabric. He didn’t think twice as he sat it by his computer monitor. 

-

Hotch very quickly learned how unimportant he truly was. He had known Gideon longer than anyone on the team. But the man didn’t bother to leave him a note. Not even a goodbye before he left. Instead he got stuck talking to Erin Strauss and filing paperwork for days. 

He knew something was wrong with Gideon. He tried to bring it up. But the man didn’t want to talk to him about that. Which only hurt more. He thought that they were close enough for Hotch to help. 

“Hotch...it’s getting late.” 

It was pitch black outside. Rain was drizzling down the windows. The pitter patter of the water being one of the few noises in the building. Hotch looked out into the bullpen. Everyone had gone home for the night. Expect for Ried and him. 

The case wasn’t particularly hard. But both of them seemed to be lingering about going home. Sometimes it’s hard being alone. 

“Didn't you finish your paperwork hours ago?” Hotch said. 

“Didn't you finish yours as well?” 

“You should be getting home. The metro isn’t safe at night.” 

Reid bit his lip. He stood in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. His lanky body looked even more fragile than normal. There was a paper clutched in his hand. 

“Take a seat.” Hotch said. 

Reid took to long strides into the room and curled himself up on the couch. His head sat on his knees, arms tugging his legs close to his body. Hotch thought he looked oddly like himself when he used to talk to Rossi. 

“We all miss him.” 

“I don’t want to.” 

The younger boy's voice was crackled. A taitness to his voice that Hotch wasn’t used to. It was clear from the moment Hotch met Reid that the kid loved Gideon. He valued him over anyone else. But the way he spoke was venomous toward Gideon. So unloving like the fatherly relationship the two had. 

“Lose is painful-“

“Why would he insert himself into my life then decide he longer wanted to be a part of it? Who does that?” 

Hotch stood up from his desk chair and moved to sit by Reid on the couch. How many times had Hotch done this exact thing with Dossi? How many times has Rossi had to talk him down? Certainly he cradled someone who needed it. 

“I want to tell you something, Reid. Ok?” 

Reid’s eyes jumped around the room and finally settled on Hotch. A second passed before he slowly nodded his head and relaxed into his spot. Shoulders loosened and he no longer gripped the paper. 

“My dad never liked me. And I always wondered why. I still do. How can you dislike a kid? They haven’t done anything wrong?” Hotch said. “Eventually I grew into an adult and he still hated me. Even after he got to know me. But sometimes someone comes around and shows you how a dad is supposed to act and treat you. And even they have to eventually leave. No matter how hard it is dads leave. We just have to figure out which dad we should miss.” 

Reid rubbed his eyes. They were red and puffy. The kid's hair was a curly mess. Hotch hesitated for a moment. The last time Reid hugged him was after the kidnapping. It was short and weak but so important. Hotch knew Reid needed and to a certain extent Hotch needed it too. In this moment Hotch felt the same way. 

He pulled Reid into a hug. The boy was shaking, a rumbling in his chest as he tried not to cry. 

Hotch no longer cared that Gideon couldn’t give him the time of day. Reid needed him and he would do everything in his power to show the boy he cared. 

-

Penelope Garcia was shot. He had a hard time believing JJ when she told him. People like her shouldn’t get shot. But they do everyday. Isn’t that who they try to save? The innocent? Isn’t she the perfect target? Hotch couldn’t figure out why he never thought of trying to protect her. 

“Baby girl you better lay down in that bed or I’m not going to tell Hotch in this room. You got me?” Morgan said. 

He stood outside the hospital room. The hallway was quiet. Too quiet for his liking. The walls were white and the lights were a glowing yellow and it only reminded Hotch of how often they are here. Too often. 

He didn’t want to go in. Garcia and Morgan have a special relationship. Their quips and comebacks with each other were enduring even if they were unprofessional. Hotch knew in a way Morgan was blaming himself. He should’ve been looking out for his girl. They all should’ve been looking out for her. 

Morgan looked at Hotch through the glass and weakly smiled. He got up from the hospital chair and closed the door behind him as he joined Hotch in the hallway. 

“Girl sits all day at her computer but can’t lay down in bed for five minutes.” Morgan groans. 

“She's a fighter.” Hotch said. 

“She shouldn’t have to be.” 

The man's voice dipped. His hands were balled into fist. Morgan had large hands. They could easily crush Hotch's own. But Morgan was so meticulous with his body. It showed in the way he held his gun. It always glided across its path, held steady and strong. Years of being a cop reflected in how much importance he put into his weapon. But Morgan also made sure he was in charge. The gun didn’t go anywhere he couldn’t control. His hands gripped it so perfectly that it would never stray. 

Morgan’s hands weren’t soft. No. There were years of muscle memory he would never be able to forget. Morgan's hands have lived and have killed. But they never pretended to be anything they weren’t. 

“But this is what she wants to do. She’s like us, she can’t sit by and let evil win.” Hotch said. 

“Hotch...is this going to change her?” 

Hotch looked into the hospital room to see disheveled blonde hair and spacy blue eyes. Her glasses were perched on the bridge of her nose, slanted and needing a realignment. She looked pale, awfully white compared to the blanket that laid over her body. The color was gone. The bright pinks and yellow and blues were missing from her. What laid on that bed wasn’t Garcia. 

“Change isn’t bad.” Hotch said. “But forgetting who you once were is. I can promise you that she’ll never forget even if she changes.” 

Hotch walked into the hospital room and pulled out a pink stuffed bear from his pocket. It was the size of his palm and as soft as baby kittens. The sewing was poor, legs all different shapes and the eyes weren’t centered. But the imperfect qualities were what Hotch knew Garcia would love. He found the toy a while ago and never found the right time to give it to her. 

It wasn’t the right time but she needed this more than ever. Because she needed reminders of who she is. So she can start being Penelope Garcia again 

-

Emily and JJ were the bane of Hotch's existence. 

“Isn’t odd that not one of us is married?” Emily said. 

“Not all of us are single.” JJ said. 

“And some of us frequently get it. Right kid?” Morgan said. 

Reid cocked his head and Hotch laughed quietly to himself. The team hadn’t been able to fall asleep on the plane ride home tonight. Instead there was a buzz in the compartment. A need for chatter that none of them could ignore. 

“What about you Hotch? Special girl on the side?” Emily said. 

“Or a lucky fella?” JJ giggled. 

Many nights Hotch wondered what it would like to have a normal family. A partner he loved, a house full of kids, weekend at the in-laws. Holidays filled with laughter and joy. Mornings to drive the kids to school, coffee shared at dawn before everyone works up. Coaching sports and helping with homework. Hotch didn’t know what it would be like and the thought often scared the hell out of him. Could he do normal? 

“Can I take the silence as a yes?” Emily said. 

“Never.” Hotch said. 

“You're telling me a guy like you isn’t just wrangling in girls? Hotch, you're the definition of a gentleman.” JJ said. 

You also said I was mean. Hotch reminded himself of that. Why would anyone want to be with him if he didn’t treat them right? 

“So is that a yes for a guy then?” Emily said. 

Because she thought he was misogynistic. He couldn’t possibly ever have a relationship with a woman that would be fair. 

“Some of us are perfectly happy alone.” Hotch said. 

“Aye aye!” Reid said. 

“Spence, not knowing how to talk to girls doesn’t equate not wanting to be in a relationship.” JJ said. 

But didn’t Hotch want it? Didn’t he want to know what it felt like to be cared for? Or was he actually happy being alone? 

“I talk to plenty of women.” Reid said. 

“I bet you do.” Morgan said. 

Hotch stood from his spot and walked over to the coffee machine. With shaking hands he poured a cup. The dark roast was a strong smell. It reminded him of his father in the morning. He would sit at the kitchen table drinking a single cup of black coffee. Not sugar no cream. He would sit and drink and wait. Oftentimes it wasn’t anything Hotch even did. Most times he was just the only object for his father to relay his anger on in the morning. His mom spent too long in the bathroom to even consider what was happening. 

“We were just joking.” JJ said. 

The cup was hot and it was sinking into his skin. The pain was so unlike the type he was used to. 

“I know that.” Hotch said. 

His body was telling him to pull away from the cup. His hands were burning but he tightened the cup even harder. 

“Maybe so but I can tell I upset you Hotch.” JJ said. 

“You didn’t mean to so let’s move on.” 

He saw Emily making his way towards them and the last thing he wanted for the two to team up on him. He started to move away from JJ when the plan hit a patch of turbulence. The contents of coffee leaped out of the cup and onto the skin of Hotch's bare hand. He heard JJ yelp and saw that sprinkles of coffee had landed on her feet where the shoe didn’t cover. 

Forgetting about the burning that was running up his hand, Hotch grabbed paper towels from the coffee tray and patted down the bits of coffee burns on JJ. She lifted her head to thank him when she spotted his hand. 

“Hotch! Get that under the sink now.” JJ said. 

“I’m fine.” 

Emily has gathered her baring after the turbulence and got to the group in the back. She recoiled at the burnt skin on Hotch's hand. She grabbed the older man and pulled him over to the sink and turned the faucet on. Hotch gasped as pulsating pain entered his hand. 

“Fine? What the hell hotch. You might need to see a doctor for this.” Emily said. 

“I’m not going to the doctor for a burn.” Hotch said. 

Reid and Morgan had migrated to the back of the plane to see the commotion that was happening. Morgan had helped JJ with the small burns while Reid peered over Emily to look at Hotch's hand. The skin was a flaring red and the skin was inflamed. The skin wasn’t pulling away from the muscle though and it hadn’t started to burst or melt under the heat. 

“Keep his hand under the water until the color goes down. Then he’ll have to ice it every few hours to help with the inflammation. A pain killer will also be helpful too.” Reid said. 

Emily watched as the red started to dissipate but something stuck out to her. 

“What’s that scar from?” She said. 

Hotch though Emily would have soft hands. She talked so often about the little things she does for herself to make her feel better. He put personal care such as lotions and manicures into that category. Her hands were bony and rough and were demanding in their actions. They looked almost forgotten by her. As if she couldn’t even give a second of time to them. 

They were exactly how her hands should look. Emily always had more important things to deal with. Her hands were there to be used and she made that clear. 

“Cigarette burn.” Hotch mumbled. 

“I didn’t know you smoked.” JJ said. 

“I don’t.” 

Very gently and without anyone’s notice JJ grabbed Hotch's hand and squeezed it. He almost yanked his none burned hand away from her, but was shocked to be reminded how much her touch felt his mother. The soft skin, bit nails and slender fingers. At that moment Hotch realized that soft hands weren’t always bad. 

-

He was a quick thinker. Oftentimes he could sense the small ticks in situations that might have gone unnoticed. But a car bomb wasn’t something he could've seen. It was a change in MO for the unsubs. 

Now he laid out on the tarmac bleeding out from shrapnel wounds he couldn’t locate. His hands felt numb, his head was pounding and ears ringing. He didn’t know if his eyesight was blacking out at times or the sky was really just that dark right now. 

“Can you hear me?” 

His head rolled slowly to the side to see that Morgan was crouched next to him. He had started to undo the straps on the vest. Hotch forgot he was even wearing it which brought great relief to him. The shrapnel hadn’t hit any major organs at least. 

“Are you whispering?”

“Your hearing has been blown out.” 

He couldn’t follow Morgan’s lips and his voice felt like a tiny flicker in his head. Blown up, he knew he’d been blown up. 

“We need an ambulance.” 

“We’re shit out of luck. Talked to the police and it seems our own recommendations are screwing us over.” 

“I can barely hear you.” 

His under chest was burning. It was running up his neck. White hot pain that felt unstoppable. Hotch wanted to curl into his side and cry. No beatings he’s ever gotten in his life ever hurt this much. A broken arm was nothing compared to this. His ears wouldn’t stop ringing and every muscle in his body ached. Every breath he took was agonizing. 

“Put pressure on the wound or I’ll die.”

“You don’t think I know that Hotch?” 

Morgan’s hands were heavily sat on his up chest. He struggled under the pressure. Breathing only got harder. And the bit of the shrapnel wounds only cried with more pain. He was going to die. Out in the middle of the street forcing his team mate to try and keep him alive. 

“Team? Is...are they alright?”

“I don’t know...cell signal has been cutting in and out all night.” 

“Garcia must be pissed.” 

“You're definitely right about that.” Morgan weakly laughed. 

Hotch thought about his father. About how happy he was to hear the news about the cancer diagnosis. Who would be happy to see him go? Would people even be sad that he was dying? A fleeting moment hotch thought his team might care. But again he remembers all the wrong he's done to them and knows he doesn’t deserve their love. 

“Remember that night I asked you to go to the bars with me?” Hotch said. 

“I promise you once you're recovered I am taking you out for the wildest night of your life.” 

“I learned my father was dying that night and I made you celebrate with me. Karma is a real bitch. Isn’t it?” 

“You're not going to die.” 

“You should be with the rest of the team right now.” 

If there was an after life Hotch feared where he would end up and with who. Everyday he wanted to believe he was a better person than his father. But he isn’t. He doesn’t talk to his mother and Sean hates him. He can’t remember the last time he spoke to Rossi. Gideon left like nothing mattered. He doubted anyone on his team even trusted him. Wherever his dad was he would end up. Life is cruel that way. 

“I should be here with you.” 

“Go. That’s an order.” 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“I’m a drill sergeant right? So listen to me.” 

“Hotch...your my friend and I’m not leaving you.” 

Hotch closed his eyes. They felt awfully heavy. 

-

He faded in and out of conciseness. Bits and pieces of conversations fazing around his head. 

“I called Sean...I know they aren’t close but...”

“Hotch, no, I think you're really nice. Sometimes though, cases make you upset and you don’t know how to direct the anger.” 

“Has anyone told-“

“He said he’d be here soon.” 

“I misunderstood you Hotch. You do trust women. You just didn’t trust me back then and I took that personally.” 

“You know I only called you a drill sergeant because you do your job so well. You keep us in line when we need it. You keep us together Hotch.” 

“The doctors said you’d be fine. I just really need you to wake up. I need to know you're not going anywhere. Like everyone else in my life.” 

“Sir...we care about you. So please just stop scaring us like this.” 

-

“You have created quite the team.” 

Hotch's eyes were blurry and his throat was dry. His body was aching but his mind was steady. He wasn’t popping in and out anymore. Life. It was clear. He was alive. 

“Found my number and Sean’s. Then, this is what I liked, they set up a rotation to visit you. I’m supposed to call when you wake up. But I think we should talk real quick before that.” 

“Rossi?” Hotch croaked. 

Rossi held out a glass of watch. With weak hands he slowly reached for the cup and grasped it. He brought it up to his parched lips and took small sips. 

“I’m guessing I did a bit of talking while I was lucid on painkillers.” 

“You scared the shit out of them.” 

Everything was still hazy, but he could grasp figments of what he said and he was horrified. How could he be so open and honest? What right did he have to lay out his issue on them? 

“They feel guilty.” 

“About what?” 

“You’ve held so much inside for so long Aaron.” 

“How much do they know.” 

Rossi took a moment to reply. Hotch could see the cogs turning in his head. The steady organization of information. He’d seen this face thousands of times on the job. It was different seeing the face turned on him. 

“Doctor showed them where all the shrapnel wounds are. You had a few on your back. It seemed they all had their suspicions. But they didn’t know the extent of what your father did.” Rossi said. “Sometimes you’d tell stories from your childhood. Sometimes you told them about how you know they don’t like you. How sorry for having to be their boss. There’s a lot of self hatred up in that head.” 

“I have to apologize. That was unacceptable to lay on them-“ 

“I’ve never seen a group at the BAU act more like a family then them. They saw you hurt and heard you talking and they wanted to do anything in their power to make sure you're alright.” 

“It's not their job to take care of me.” 

“It’s what family does.” 

Hotch's breath caught in his throat. His eyes strung with tears as they ran over the lids and down his face. 

Family. He didn’t know how a family acted. 

“Things aren’t going to change over night. But slowly we’re all going to make sure you understand your part of this family and not just witnessing it.” 

“We’re?” 

“Strauss said they’ve had an opening for a senior profiler and I’ve been missing the job.” 

“I’ve missed you too.” 

He tumbled with the hospital blanket and wondered how to ask the next thing on his mind. He’d lost a lot of time since the bombing and now. 

“Can you answer some questions for me?” 

“Hit me.” 

“Did anyone else get hurt in this case?” 

“No. Luckily. Each SUV was strapped with a bomb but the media worked fast and got out the video of the bombing before anyone else got into the vehicle. The case ended pretty quickly after you were brought to the hospital.” 

“Did...did Gideon come by?” 

Hotch looked at his hands. An IV was attached rather close to the cigarette burn. It looked dark and fresh compared to the paleness of his skin currently. Other small scars now littered his hands. But it would always be that one that stood out to him. The landmark to him of a change in personality. A moment of realization that his dad wasn’t his dad but in fact a monster. It’s the moment he desperately wished he had a didn’t man in his life to call his dad. 

“Reid told me you two talked a while back. Said something along the lines of shitty dads and which dads we should mourn.” Rossi said. “Gideon was good for him, but he never really was that for you. Was he? Sometimes you wanted him to be. Maybe right now it’s a rather fresh feeling because you're in a lot of pain. But he always made sure you two never got close.” 

“Because you were there for me.” Hotch whispered. 

“I always will be.” Rossi smiled. “You're looking a bit tired. Get some rest. When you wake up someone special will be here.” 

Hotch was sleeping before his eyes ever fully closed. 

-

Hotch knew it was Sean. Even with the long hair and patchy clothes. Even with the red ringed eyes and shaking leg. Even with chewed nails and pinched brow. Sean was Sean. If the man changed everything about himself Hotch would be able to pick him out of a crowd. 

The two of them have never been in this position. They weren’t the type of family to actually be there for one another. It was annual calls to update on life situations. It was letters home for the holidays. It wasn’t sitting in hospital being concerned for the other. 

“You didn’t have to come.” Hotch said. 

“They said you could die. How couldn’t I come?” Sean said. 

“I’ll pay for the plane ticket. I know it must’ve cost you a fortune.” 

“Can you for one moment just let someone take care of you?” 

Hotch snapped his mouth shut, shocked by his younger brother's attitude. The two had fights. The two had also laughed and cried together. But Sean and him had never gotten emotional together. It’s usually baseline conversation. They don’t dig. 

“Aaron...after dad died I noticed things. I couldn’t place it back then. I was so...absorbed in myself at the time.” Sean said. “What did he do to you.” 

“Sean-“

“Please tell me.”

“You love him. I don’t want to change that.” 

He didn’t want to be stuck in a hospital bed for this conversation. He was completely out of his element. He liked control. It was the one thing he needed after escaping his father. If he couldn’t control the situation then he was just a child again waiting for the next time his father would unbuckle his belt and wrap it around his hands. A chilling voice filtering fun the air promising that the whipping was all his fault. Hotch needed control. 

“I know dad didn’t like you. Whenever mom mentions you were coming home he got grumpy. He didn’t talk as much, snapped at mom sometimes. He even yelled at me over stupid stuff.” Sean said. “But he did worse things to you. Didn’t he. That’s why you didn’t speak at the funeral.”

“He hit me. Burned me with cigarettes. Whipped me. Yelled and belittled me at every chance. He broke my arm. Made sure I saw you as little as possible. Sometimes I think the physical pain was the worst. But how he kept me so reserved from everyone to this day. That's the worst.” Hotch sighed. “Sean...I need you to know that the dad I knew wasn’t the dad you knew. So don’t feel guilty for loving him just because he hurt me. A part of me loves him even though I shouldn’t. He’s our father. It’s something we can’t help but feel.” 

Hotch thought he could see the world through people’s hands. Just by looking at the skin, the scars, the wrinkles, the time spent, he thought he could tell exactly who a person was. Sean’s hands were just like his fathers. No scars, no wrinkles or skin spotting. They were soft and perfect. They were large and manly. They were everything he remembered about his father. Those were hands he was supposed to fear. Sean wasn’t his father. Sean was quiet, caring in his own way, and most importantly loving. Hotch knew his father wouldn’t have come to the hospital to see him. But Sean did. 

“Can I...can I call you more?” 

“Absolutely. I’m never going to ignore a call from my brother.” Hotch smiled. 

-

Epilogue 

“Are you drunk?” Morgan slurred. 

“Not as much as you.” Hotch laughed. 

“Shit...who’s the DD?” Emily said. 

“Papa Rossi!” JJ giggled. 

“I want everyone to know I never agreed to this.” Rossi said. 

“Yet here you are. You can not resist a few pretty faces.” Garcia said. 

“It’s less so of how he finds us attracted and more so how we’re all old enough to be his kids and grandkids.” Reid said. 

He hasn’t gotten drunk in years. At first he was hesitant. He didn’t want a hangover especially if they could get called in at any moment. But after Morgan paid for his fifth shot he forgotten everything about headaches and puking in garbage cans. He was drunk off his ass in a world of pure hopeless joy. 

“Papa Rossi can we sleep at your place tonight?” Hotch said. 

“You are thirty five years old Aaron.” Rossi said. 

“Please!” Garcia whined. 

“We’ll be quiet.” Reid said. 

“We’ll make breakfast in the morning.” Morgan said. 

“You will not touch my kitchen.” Rossi said. 

“Wait! Is that a yes?” JJ said. 

“And you're going to make breakfast?” Emily said. 

Hotch grabbed Morgan’s shoulder as he laughed. The latter man was wiping tears out of his eyes. The trio of girls were giving Rossi large puppy dog eyes. And Reid was trying to grab the bottle of vodka to pour himself another shot. 

Hotch's bodily movements weren’t great. But he got the bottle off the table before Reid could even process it was gone. 

“Too much for the boy genius.” Hotch said. 

“But you’ve drank more!” Reid said. 

“Shhh. Your dad has spoken.” 

Reid pouted and crossed his arms around his chest. Hotch almost lost his control again but held in a lapse of giggles. Rossi looked over at him with a fond smile. He didn’t know why, he didn’t really know what he just said. 

“Did anyone record that?” JJ said. 

“All of it! Oh Hotch you're going to love this in the morning.” Garcia said. 

“Please! One more shot. Then I’m done.” Reid said. 

Hotch's grip of the bottle was lost when Morgan yanked it away from him. He almost gasped, but could at least control himself that much. 

“There’s enough for all of us to have one more.” Morgan said. 

“Only one?” Emily said. 

“Then we’re going home.” Rossi said. 

“But it’s early!” Hotch said. 

“One more shot and we’re going to my home or you're all taking cabs home.” Rossi said. 

“Deal!” JJ shouted. 

Morgan poured out the drinks. Hotch snapped his head back, opened his throat and knew he made a mistake. He was drunker than a dog and god would punish him in the morning. 

But he was so happy. He was laughing and smiling and was surrounded by the people he would happily call his family if anyone asked.

-

_ “You must remember, family is often born of blood, but it doesn't depend on blood." Trenton Lee Stewart _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written so much fanfiction in such a short time. What can I say though, Hotch really gets me emotional. Please tell me what you think! I love reading all the comments!


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